The voices resonated like magic, pouring into his ears and instinctively stirring concern and anxiety in Zhang Yuanqing—feelings as if the person trapped in the coffin were a beloved relative or close brother. The shadowed corpse standing before the glass wall instinctively took a few steps forward, raised its fist, and assumed an attacking stance. Yet suddenly, the raised fist paused mid-air, and Zhang Yuanqing’s eyes regained their clarity. He breathed out, "There's something here—something that even affects me." As a master-level illusionist at the peak of his sixth rank, Zhang was especially skilled at managing emotions. His night-wandering spirit body, equally adept in illusion arts, amplified his capabilities. Yet even with this dual expertise, he had nearly fallen under the influence of the Buddha corpse. "You've been hypnotized?" Princess Yin Yao deduced from the corpse’s movements, drawing a parallel to the fate of the Primordial Sovereign. Zhang nodded. "The Buddha corpse inside has a peculiar nature—it nearly succeeded in influencing me." As for the precise identification of "Primordial Sovereign," such a mental-based spell typically stems from the caster’s own inner awareness. Even the Primordial Sovereign himself might not have recognized Zhang Yuanqing’s name had From a different perspective, what is heard is the Primordial Heavenly Sovereign, not Zhang Yuanqing—demonstrating that the Buddha’s body cannot reach his innermost mind. Lady Yin Yao nods, holding her walkie-talkie against her chin, “It’s risky; we should avoid confrontation for now.” You really need to say it?—Zhang Yuanqing maneuvers the阴 corpses, leading them forward. After initially assessing the condition of the artifacts, the two proceed without touching the display cases, quickening their pace and walking for about a minute before finally spotting a staircase entrance. So smooth? Even from a distance, Zhang Yuanqing halts, directing the阴 corpses to advance. The night traveler’s advantage becomes fully evident—always having a steady stream of sacrificial casualties. The阴 corpses move steadily forward, gradually approaching the staircase. As they near twenty meters, Zhang Yuanqing, sharing their visual field, his eyes widen—he sees two collapsed corpses lying at the staircase entrance, their heads and chests shattered into fragments, splashing across the floor, while their waists and lower bodies remain intact. Two Sixth-Class Immortals died at the stairwell entrance, their blood half-solid, the time of death no more than half an hour. The stairwell was indeed dangerous—far from simple. He thought so. Suddenly, his vision darkened, and he lost sight of everything. The next moment, his consciousness returned to his body, thirty meters away: the shade lay on the ground, its head and chest shattered, while its waist and below remained intact—identical to the two bodies. Zhang Yuanqing and Lady Yin Yao both looked up toward the sky. His consciousness was split between the shade’s body and his own. Just moments before, they had clearly seen a beam of bloodlight descend from the heavens and strike down the shade. They saw, beneath a roof fifty meters high, a deer with golden antlers, its four hooves raised into the air, standing high above, its back bearing a woman dressed in simple hunting attire, wearing a crown woven from thorns. In her hands, she held a golden bow, with two quivers—one filled with golden arrows, the other with blood-red arrows. The woman and the golden-horned deer beneath her were sculpted in a gray-white hue, as if brought to life. No—she was a sculpture, just like him. When Zhang Yuanqing and Princess Yin Yao observed her, the female sculpture turned her head toward them as well, her face and eyes lifeless and pale, appearing cold and rigid. The female sculpture merely glanced at them before turning back, remaining motionless as she sat upon the back of her mount. Zhang Yuanqing and Princess Yin Yao quietly stepped back. Zhang Yuanqing spoke softly, "The red glow I saw in my stargazing—those must be the arrows she shot. I always thought it wouldn't be that simple. Indeed, there's a boss stationed at the stairwell entrance." Princess Yin Yao suggested, "Let's move through! Unless we face a master-tier presence, we'll push them aside." "If it's truly a master-tier level, wouldn't that be like just serving dishes? No—any rule-based ability would be enough to keep us going for a while. Zhang Yuanqing smiled, "We're entering a combat-focused dungeon, not a fire-master-themed one. Whenever possible, never prioritize raw strength. Let me work out the outcome." He pulled out the Dà Luó Xīng Pán, lit the stars on its surface, and began to analyze the results of a direct assault. It took him a full minute before he finally opened his eyes, his expression now significantly more serious. In his celestial observation and analysis, the Star-Flight technique couldn't pass through the stairwell, the electromagnetic shielding of the Thunder God's set couldn't withstand arrows, and Night-Wanderer couldn't evade the female statue in the sky. The Divine Sojourn would also be struck down by a single arrow. As for whether the Yellow Taijia could withstand the female statue's attack—Zhang Yuanqing himself was certain he couldn't manage it without the Purple-Jade Set. However, the master-tier items and materials had been sealed by the Spirit Realm. The female statue truly commands the battlefield with her offensive power, further bolstered by the副本mechanism that specifically nullifies evasive maneuvers. "It's impossible to withstand her blows—evading simply doesn't work," Princess Yin Yao furrowed her brows, pondering the likelihood of her and Yuanshiyuan Tianzun successfully defeating the statue together. Although the statue's offensive strength reaches the level of a Master, as long as her speed and defense haven't yet reached Master-tier, there remains a solid chance for their combined effort to prevail. The experienced Zhang Yuanqing instantly grasped the point, pointing to one display case after another and said, "Now you understand the significance of these artifacts, don't you?" Princess Yin Yao, having participated in several such副本with the master, felt a spark of insight: "You mean these artifacts can be tamed and used to counter the guardian statues?" "Only a hunch—let's try it out," Zhang Yuanqing stood up, leading Princess Yin Yao away from the staircase and toward the west. Hall No. 3 is vast, with no clear boundaries to either side, and numerous display cases obstructing the view. After walking for a while, Zhang Yuanqing and Lady Yin Yao hadn't yet spotted any other Lingjing travelers. Occasionally, they could hear distant sounds of combat. Neither of them made a point to go over specifically to check, but after a while, they settled on a single artifact. It was a bronze staff, heavily rusted and oxidized, measuring thirty centimeters in length. The handle featured simple carvings and ridges, while the end bore a copper ball the size of a goose egg. Zhang Yuanqing walked up to the display case, clenched his fist, and with a loud "crash," the tempered glass dome shattered into fragments, scattering in all directions. The seal was broken. The bronze rod, lying quietly within the case, had its copper ball at the head lift slightly and soar into the air, striking Zhang Yuanqing with a piercing, mournful sound. Ying Yao, the host of the Silver Yao Prefecture, gasped, "Oh! It's alive! It has self-awareness!" For she hadn't sensed any spirit of resentment from the rod. Zhang Yuanqing turned his head to avoid the blow, reached out, and firmly grasped the handle, holding it tightly in his palm. The bronze rod trembled violently, as if an electric rod, struggling against his grip. Zhang Yuanqing's entire palm shook, and the muscles in his forearm rippled with tension, locked in a fierce struggle. He furrowed his brow, saying, "I can hold onto it, but this thing simply can't serve as a weapon. In fact, it's becoming an extra burden." If the relics can't be tamed, then the idea of using them to counter the sculpted female figures falls apart—wouldn't we have to rally the spiritual travelers from the replica realms instead? But if the relics can't be tamed, what purpose does having so many sealed relics displayed in the exhibition hall serve? As his thoughts flickered, Zhang Yuanqing recalled the descriptions in the relic documents, and suddenly had a realization—he loosened his bronze staff. "Thud! Thud! Thud!" The bronze mace, just freed from its bonds, immediately launched a series of powerful, forceful blows at Zhang Yuanqing. With a bent arm, Zhang Yuanqing blocked the attacks, and as the three strikes landed, his elbow bones shattered, his flesh and tissue torn and smeared. After the three blows, the bronze staff seemed as though it had been shaken to its core—its energy and vitality completely drained—and it clattered to the ground. Indeed, so it was—Zhang Yuanqing immediately grasped the museum's gameplay: unseal the relics, subdue them, then proceed to face the final boss. The gameplay wasn't difficult—anyone other than a fire specialist could grasp it within a short time. Of course Thinking this, he bent down to pick up the copper rod. Suddenly, a sharp "crack" echoed from afar, followed by an arrow whistling toward Zhang Yuanqing. He swiftly rotated his body to dodge to the left, and the tiles beneath his original stance shattered, with an arrow embedded in them. "Crack! Crack! Crack!" The sounds of the bowstrings rang one after another, arrows pursuing Zhang Yuanqing, each one striking the ground and shattering tiles. These arrows bore inscriptions of armor-piercing runes, and their tips were laced with a potent toxin—both deadly and swift, making it difficult even for Zhang Yuanqing to evade them. While Zhang Yuanqing was being pressed back by the arrows, a slender, smooth, bright red tongue popped out from a distance, coiled around the copper rod, and then swiftly retracted. Two figures emerged from behind a display cabinet several meters away. A man in a dark combat uniform stepped out from behind the cabinet, holding a vintage crossbow crafted from a combination of cast iron and wood. This is a sturdy, tall Western man with golden short hair, light blue eyes, a square face, and a stern expression. The other one has a broad mouth and prominent eyes, his cheeks puffed out, with a dense covering of blemishes, looking quite unattractive—much like the frog spirit from the animated series "The Seven Heroes and the Dragon." The frog spirit holds a bronze staff, chuckling warmly, "A Level 3 artifact is worth 10 points of credit; we accept it with pleasure." As he speaks, he slots the staff into his inventory, completes the bonding process, and hears the system notification confirming the acquisition of 10 points of credit. The man with golden short hair smiles and remarks, "Huh! You managed to avoid it! This crossbow is a Level 2 artifact—ordinary Level 6 characters usually can't dodge it. Your abilities are quite impressive. Would you be interested in joining our team?" Though he says this, his hand subtly lifts the crossbow, aiming it precisely at Zhang Yuanqing. "A witch-guerrilla and a master of terminal poisons," Zhang Yuanqing observes, identifying their respective professions. A drunk will carry the scent of wine and show the look of intoxication. Yet the Nightborne, with their pale skin and perpetually drowsy eyes, always seem to be half-asleep. The man with golden, short hair exudes the air of a master poisoner. As for the Wugushi—well, that's self-evident; their signature ability is transforming into a spirit host. "Your eyes are sharp," the man with golden hair said, shrugging. "I'll wager you're a Lawful-class character." "Since you know I'm Lawful, you should already understand that we're on opposing sides." Zhang Yuanqing shrugged. "You didn't even glance at the quest details, did you? This killing instance has no faction rivalry—only the need to slay the Spirit Travelers to earn points." The toad spirit puffed out her cheeks, speaking in a rough, forceful tone. Zhang Yuanqing remained silent. The man with golden hair spread his hands. "Well, then, he's clearly ungrateful. Let's kill him to earn points. That woman, though—she's quite beautiful. I'll keep her." With that, his gaze sharpened. As soon as the words fell, a middle-aged man in a solid black robe suddenly appeared five meters to the left of Zhang Yuanqing, his hands supporting a silver cross about half a person's height. A faint, ethereal voice gradually coalesced on the cross, resembling Jesus, trapped and expressing pain and distortion—exactly Zhang Yuanqing's spirit. Zhang Yuanqing's physical form instantly went still. "Stupid," the man with golden hair raised his crossbow and pulled the trigger toward the enemy whose spirit had been extracted. "If you had retreated earlier, perhaps we would have chosen to leave." The cross was itself a cultural relic, a Class 1 artifact, capable of capturing souls. Their strategy involved two of them drawing out time while the third Night-Wanderer companion remained nearby, waiting for the cross to read the soul—requiring thirty seconds of steady alignment with the target. With the bowstrings releasing, three arrows pierced the enemy through the chest, forehead, and abdomen. Yet, no sound of points being awarded came through. Hmm? The golden-haired man with short hair immediately sensed something was wrong. Suddenly, a soft "pffft" sound came from beside him. He whipped around to see a middle-aged man with a flower-white short braid, using his blood-red greatsword to sever the frog spirit's head. His heart leapt with alarm—before he could react, a searing pain shot through his chest, and a bright blue lightning spear pierced through his torso from front to back. The terrifying lightning-based spiritual energy instantly destroyed his internal organs, leaving no time for any distortion of time. He had been ambushed. A light, amused laugh reached his ears: "Give me your points, and that counts as teamwork." He struggled to turn his head and saw the young man—precisely the one he had intended to kill with his arrows. How could this be? His throat rolled, his lungs and trachea carbonized, and he could barely make a sound. With only a sense of resignation, he allowed his consciousness to sink into endless darkness. He had begun to suspect he had encountered a peak sage—but it was too late to regret it. On the other side, the star official, equally motionless, was sliced open through the chest by the silver jade princess’s sword, her heart crushed, and her spiritual essence shattered by the princess’s whip. [Chime! You have gained 13 points.] [Chime! You have gained 44 points.] [Chime! You have gained 36 points.] Zhang Yuanqing heard the spiritual realm’s notification sounds and glanced at the leaderboard—his rank instantly surged to ninth place. Among these three, none were peak sages; defeating them was straightforward. Zhang Yuanqing chose the most efficient approach—using conversation to delay time, gradually weaving illusions to draw them all into the same realm simultaneously. Then, he launched a surprise attack from behind, delivering a decisive strike. He removed his armor of thunder, suffering severe burns on his chest and abdomen—wounds that, for a star official, could be fully healed within two minutes. At that moment, he heard urgent footsteps approaching from afar. Turning toward the sound, he saw a small squad advancing toward him, armed with weapons.